Inje Circuit Blues (3)
“Hey! More throttle! Steering! You fucking bastard, get in there more aggressively!”
Kim Ji-hyun was riding Han Dae-jin hard as he piloted the N2 class car, pushing his speed higher and higher. The lap timer had already shown him shattering the two-minute barrier multiple times, but she wasn't satisfied.
“16! Curb! Bang! Line up! Brake! Good!”
Han Dae-jin moved in sync with her commands. He flinched at first from her yelling through the radio mic into his helmet headset, but surprisingly, he was following her orders well—and stabilizing. Deep down, he was thrown by how steady he was getting.
The session ended soon enough. Spotting the red flag, Han Dae-jin eased off and headed into the pits. After a long cool-down in the paddock behind the pit building, the N2 car rolled into the pit garage.
Han Dae-jin and Kim Ji-hyun climbed out and immediately checked the car. With her ferocious instructions, he'd driven like he was devouring the Ventus RS4 tires—they were toast.
“Chief! Tire change on this one.”
At Kim Ji-hyun's word, the chief mechanic and crew jacked up the N2 with a hydraulic lift and axle stands, swapping in fresh tires on new wheels. She and Han Dae-jin watched while chugging bottled water.
“You know what you hit during that run? Down to 55 seconds.”
“For real?” Han Dae-jin asked, eyes wide.
Kim Ji-hyun grinned and showed him a photo she'd snapped of the lap record on her phone. He begged her to share it, then immediately posted it to Starsta.
“Bragging already, you little shit. Posting it on Starsta right away.”
Kim Ji-hyun spotted his update and clucked her tongue with a laugh as the tire swap finished and the car dropped back down. They prepped for another run, Han Dae-jin sliding into the driver's seat again.
“Passenger this session—aim for 53.”
“53 seconds? No way that's possible.”
“That's why I'm telling you to do it, dumbass. That NutKim guy or whatever hit 52 with a passenger.”
She tapped the helmet on Han Dae-jin's head. He blasted out onto the pit lane.
Cars were lining up. The pit lane signal changed, and Han Dae-jin immediately started weaving and braking like a maniac to warm the tires.
“Fuck these assholes—told 'em to burn off the tires and dry 'em in the sun, but the fuckers still have oil on 'em.”
Kim Ji-hyun clocked the slight slip right away. Han Dae-jin ignored it, rounding corner 4. Heading into 5, he flicked the rear out a bit to warm it.
“Don't showboat, you idiot.”
She snapped at him as he countered the slide. He switched back to obedient weaving and braking. First lap: he floored it, hitting around 210 kph near the 50-meter board before corner 1, then braked hard. Paddle-shifting down while easing brake pressure. Then acceleration through 1-2-3. He left it in gear, focusing solely on steering.
Corner 4. That's where his flaw showed.
“You fucking moron, why the hell did you downshift to first here?!”
Overstimulated fingers had dropped him to first on the paddles! He scraped through the corner somehow, but Kim Ji-hyun smacked his helmet in fury.
“Fuck, next lap. Goddamn, nail the entry to 1 and then fuck it up like that, you shit.”
She grumbled at him while he kept pushing. “Shit, this bonehead shit is just like Ji-hoon. He fucked his transmission messing with paddles too, switched to a stick shifter. But N2 won't let you do that.”
Han Dae-jin cracked a faint smile at her words.
Back to corner 1. This time, he braked focused, nailing 1, 2, and 3 on perfect lines. Corner 4: down to second precisely. Steering. Post-brake, he linearly fed throttle for 5.
Through 5's curbs with a slight slide. Instead of pounding 6's understeer, he stretched the U-shape on the middle line. Past 7's curbs, brake before the 50-meter board at 8, then accelerate through 8's curbs. The car went airborne, slamming the opposite curb with a shudder before rejoining the track.
At 10, intense braking, easing pressure in a flash, hugging 11's line to the cone, clearing 12. Then 13. The dreaded 14: light brake, grazing the curb, then throttle again.
Finally, 16. Bang. Line up! Brake! Turn-in! Nailed perfectly—his math put him close to 1:53.
Full throttle to the last corner, brake before it, clipping the inside curb without touching. Down the main straight, lap measured: 1:53.364.
“You fucking genius bastard, that's impressive! Keep going. Don't nut and nap—that's for premature shits. Races mean holding laps just a hair off this for 30 minutes straight!”
She ordered him to push on. He did, holding the 1:54 range until session end.
Back in the pits, they dismounted. Kim Ji-hyun yanked the lap timer, hooked it to her laptop, and called over the chief and Han Dae-jin for data review.
“The high-speed stuff—1-2-3 or 5-6—is decent, but you're still losing time in the technicals after.”
She compared her graphs. Her identical-car best: low 1:51s.
“Pull out the B720? Time to test what you mentioned. We've been on Super Grand Prix spec so far.”
The chief spoke up.
“B720 it is. You fuckers burn and sun-dry these tires properly? Felt oily on pit lane.”
“Sorry—rushed your order, we didn't prep 'em right.”
Kim Ji-hyun finally smiled. “It's fine. My bad rushing you. But always do that to new tires from now on.”
“Got it.”
“Mount the 720s. Dae-jin, hydrate and prep. These are half a size up.”
Han Dae-jin grabbed water from the camping cooler and readied up. B720? He searched the unfamiliar tire name: Southstar B720. Not officially out in Korea, but supplied for Inje Masters and such—semi-available.
Why test it on him now? No clue.
Mechanics swapped wheels, plus brake discs and pads. Done, they loaded up and rolled out.
Han Dae-jin eyed the tread pattern briefly. Different feel from the LS-4—he was rattled but thrilled.
The B720 gripped like glue through corner 6, hauling the car. He smirked and mashed throttle.
“Tires way better than this car deserves.”
Kim Ji-hyun muttered, watching. His lap: 1:52.
She still pushed him. Session over, he climbed out. She grilled him for feedback.
“Grip's insane overall, but felt like the car needed more to match it.”
A mechanic probed: “Like what?”
“Grip holds, but suspension can't quite handle it?”
The mechanic nodded. “Stock shocks. Endurance runs'll get coilovers.”
Kim Ji-hyun agreed.
“Endurance?”
“Yeah. How long you gonna street-race? We'll make content too. You're filming anyway.”
His helmet cam was still rolling. Han Dae-jin got it now.
Two days of Inje testing done, he headed back to Osan. At his officetel, Min Hee-yeon squatted waiting in a short skirt and tank top.
“You fuck her?”
“Nah.”
“Inside. Gotta milk you dry.”
She opened his door and strode in. He followed.